


Dreamwalking Under a Waning Crescent Moon

by Ysavvryl



Category: Sword & Sworcery EP
Genre: Death, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 13:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20026726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ysavvryl/pseuds/Ysavvryl
Summary: A moment of rest and waiting turns into a nightmare.  The choice was made long ago, and we would rather not bring harm to the innocent.





	Dreamwalking Under a Waning Crescent Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [faceofstone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faceofstone/gifts).

We dream of myriad trees, of soft moonlight filtered through rippling canopy. Gentle tones match the gentle creatures who are content as long as they are not within our reach. Nearby, fire crackles with the melody of rest and relaxation. We have heard the war song of fire, roars to flush out an entrenched enemy and turn what was precious to them into ashes. But that’s way behind us now. We are going to do something awesome.

We may dream, but we cannot ignore the burden of our woeful errand. Even in dreams, we are tired. The mood of the moon isn’t right, hanging as a sliver in the sky. The Finger of God is waiting, idle chimes remaining as some bushes rustle. We are weary, so sought to sit to reflect. Past the next day, the mood should be right. Then we may tame the last trigon of the trifecta. Tonight, the glow of the dream fire warms the heart and I hope I may slip into the true slumber I need.

An eager bark briefly breaks the forest’s serenity. Dogfella approaches, wagging his tail like the cutie he is. Is there something he wishes to show us? He comes around and settles down at our feet. No, it seems not. I pet his head and get a licking as thanks. Then we bask in the warm glow of the fire and the entranced strumming of Jim Guthrie’s guitar, me, Dogfella, and you.

After a while of just chilling, we take the Megatome and set it in our lap. It is a bothersome burden. Within its covers lie spells of ruin and revenge, much like the war song of fire. There are also subtler evils, and yet kinda cool things at the same time in that we can see the thoughts of those around us written on its pages. It sure beats talking to them at some times. Especially with Dogfella since he doesn’t speak anything but Dog.

Dogfella

Bark bark #wagtail (just now)

You’ll be alright. You knew what you chose to do. (just now)

Just relax now, you’ll need what strength you can muster tomorrow. (just now)

Hmmmm, snoooozzzzzzeee (just now)

Dogfella now has his head on his paws, eyes closed and content. He’s right, we chose this path. Although we only met Dogfella here in the Caucasus Mountains, he treats us as warmly as he does his older friends in Logfella and Girl. Dogfella was the first to greet us; he has often come to our aid in our quest for the sylvan sprites. And I have to admit, this dream spot is much cozier with him here.

At an intense internal itch, I cover my mouth and look away from Dogfella and the Megatome. The mysterious Archetype tells us that the sworcery is taking its toll on me. But we will need it more: to tame the trigon, to reunite the once missing artifact, then to climb Mingi Taw to invalidate the Gogolithic Mass’s immortality. We must complete my woeful errand. Even as this painful coughing brings out blood occasionally, we must not falter. Do not fear for me. Of course, you must know how vital this is.

There is now a fleck of blood in the Megatome. It seems to be shaped like a skull. Is it a sign? But it’s an omen we already knew. Many moons ago, the bones were cast. A priestess read my fortune in them and it was clear: I am fated to die soon. I had two paths. I could stay with my tribe and die a wasting death of illness. Or, I could offer my sword and my life to follow the guidance of the Finger of God, to destroy the Megatome before someone else used it to tame the Gogolithic Mass instead. When we offer the Megatome to the whirling infinite, that will no longer be a possibility. I can bring peace with my fate, even if it is painful now.

We’ll be all right. In fact, we’ll be legendary. I trust you; don’t give up on me.

The red skull on the page has vanished. A clatter of teeth draws our attention to the fire. At our feet, Dogfella immediately lifts his head. The red skull now hovers above the fire, drawing its flames up. Growling, Dogfella gets up. We’ve not seen him fight, but he helps to protect the worthless sheep. Ready to step in at his side, we get up and draw our sword and shield. The skull chatters and cackles, withdrawing to a path that wasn’t there before. Dogfella barks and chases after.

We must have accidentally summoned that creepy thing on getting my blood in the Megatome. Oops. We should correct that error; we pursue the skull down the peculiar path too. Besides, we can’t leave the loyal Dogfella all on his lonesome. The tone of the dream soon shifts to the twang of a bow rather than that of a guitar. We leave the forest behind for a field full of lurking frenzy. Alongside the path, weapons stand in place of plants. These give me the heebie-jeebies, waiting for an awakening to bloodlust.

By a crooked tree that holds an empty noose, the skull stops and chatters again. Dogfella barks and the skull crumbles to pieces. As the dog holds his ears back, the skull segments scatter across the field of battle. Skeletal warriors than burst through the soil, fully armed and armored. There must be hundreds of them all around us, in every direction we can see. With a whistle, horses of bloodied bones and sickly smoke follow after, one for each of the warriors.

A dismissive grunt comes from just out of sight; Dogfella growls, backing up near us. We find myself standing nearby; she is accompanied by a skeletal horse and carries the Megatome close to her. But, she is not me. She is resplendent with the regalia of a royal warlord, with golden adornments on herself and her horse. She has freaky eyes of total red and the pallor of a corpse. On her Megatome, we see the marks of the full Trigon Trifecta, not simply two as we have. She does not bear the book as a burden; she wields it to summon a wicked storm to enchant her evil warriors.

We do not want this. Dogfella whines; he must have something to say. Opening my Megatome back up, I find it.

Dogfella

Growl bark bark! (just now)

She is not you, friend. She’s become a slave to the Gogolithic Mass. (just now)

There are too many. We must retreat and block this path. (just now)

Bark bark bark growl bark! (just now)

We could fight one of these warriors, but not all. Maybe not even her. We turn back down the path and run, Dogfella at our heels. All around us, the skeletons chatter and laugh, but they don’t pursue. The forest does not seem to be ahead. But, it must be back down this path. It’s the way we came.

With the abruptness of a screen transition, we find ourselves at the precipice of a cliff. There is no forest beyond. Instead, another vast field below leads off to calm river stretched from horizon to horizon. Bright spirits drift around its banks waiting for their turn to cross. And we know, don’t we? There is no coming back from the other side of the river.

My other self has followed us here. While she points her sword to us, she does not act like she will fight us. She means to drive us off this cliff. Dogfella barks in warning, ready to battle if need be. While it is sweet, it is senseless. He is our friend, but he need not share our fate. We open our Megatome for some sworcery to make an opening. Mirroring us, my other self opens her Megatome as well. What does she mean to do?

We must focus first on getting our friend out. But, we have used few spells. We have awakened nature to please the sylvan sprites; we have guided wild creatures and dream creatures towards what they seek. We might have even influenced the mood of the moon, but that is an action actively close to becoming a cheating cheater. We try blurring her vision with the aura of the Finger of God; she waves her hand through it, trying to see again.

“Go,” we encourage Dogfella, patting his back. “Back to the forest, block the path.”

Dogfella whines.

“We will complete our woeful errand. We will not give in here.” We blur her vision again; there is not much time. “Go, before you perish as well.”

Giving us a sad look, Dogfella runs past my other self. He looks back for a moment once he is well out of reach of her.

Dogfella

Whine (just now)

I trust you, friend. Sorry. But please, awaken before you hit the ground. (just now)

I’d like a few more hours with you before the end of your selfless quest, please. (just now)

Bark! #pleasepleaseplaywithme (just now)

We nod; there should be some time for that. Hopeful in that, Dogfella barks before fleeing. He quickly vanishes to our sight. And we run on, over the cliff and out to our fate.

We wake up before we hit the ground because we are awesome like that.

Unfortunately, we are still tired and in pain. It is still night. Logfella and Girl must both be asleep. But, Dogfella woke up with us. He comes over to lick our face; we pet him to reassure him. When day breaks, we’ll find a stick for him to fetch. Or take a walk in the woods, to give him some more time. We don’t have much of that.

Dogfella then settles in next to our sleeping bag, to be there in case of another nightmare. He is the best boy. After another pet, we settled back down to seek true slumber. We must be ready.

It warms my heart that we found some good friends for these last days.


End file.
